Origins
by ApollodoraTheExplorer
Summary: Fic about the back stories of the OTHER cyborgs from Cyborg Soldier 009. Yes, I know, the title and idea are clichés, but still... If you must blame something, blame that fact that Trick of the Devil refuses to be written.


**Author note: **Hello, to readers new and old. This, to begin with, is a chapter about the 0010 brothers. I don't own this animé nor the characters. Any comments are welcome. :)

13th September, 2005.

Good god, it is so fucking hot here. I might actually die if I have to get out of this bus and walk anywhere. I mean, at least the bus has windows and something that might have been called air conditioning ten years ago when it was first built. If you ask me, humans are not meant to live in places like this; it isn't natural and it certainly isn't healthy. But still, all that being said, fifteen months ago it would have been a hundred million times worse for me if I had been forced to come here then. Oh well, small condolence anyway.

I've been travelling through this forsaken shit-hole of a country for two and a half days now and I've been absolutely sick of it for two and a quarter days. The heat is awful, the people are weird, no-one speaks any English that I can understand and I have to pay some jerk twenty dollars a day to translate what I say to every stupid person we pass. And all he seems to do is chat in his own language with people and make jokes. I'll bet nay amount of money he's making fun of me, just because I can't speak his stupid language. Bastard.

The bus stopped two minutes ago and I didn't even notice. No-one bothered to tell me, of course, and now the driver is looking impatient and pointing at his watch. Asshole. I step out, just about ready to break his damn face and out into the stifling heat. It really is worse than I thought

We've been stopping from place to place in this area for about three hours and still with no luck yet. People keep trying to make me buy things that I neither want or need. Does everyone in this stupid country just assume that because I'm foreign that means I'm a sucker? I don't want their crap, period. My guide emerges from a crowd of people with two bottles of water and a tired expression on his face. He hands me a bottle of water before beginning to speak.

_Please, drink up, _He says. _It is getting close to the middle of the day and is important to drink water. The water in the taps here is not safe to drink, sir._

I nod, calmly. Fair enough. He downs half of his bottle before resuming the conversation.

_I have spoken with the gentleman in the shop there, _He says. _He claims that your brother's platoon was indeed in this town, but, it was a number of days ago and they have not since returned. Apparently there was some kind of trouble with the locals and they have been advised by their commanding officer to remain at their stations for the time being._

_And did the man in the shop say where they were? _I ask, my temper rising.

He shakes his head. I swear, I could honestly kill something right now. My meds ran out the day after I arrived here and I couldn't get to a doctor before I needed to start my search. I get the feeling like I'm going to need to be doing a lot of counting to ten in my time here. I can't really afford to be losing control here, especially since I'm half lost already and I can hardly find someone that speaks English.

_Ok then, _I say, after several deep breaths. _What do __**you **__recommend we do now? We've been looking around this place all morning and my flight home is __**tomorrow**__._

He doesn't know, and I can see it already. Its written all over his face and I'll bet he's as sick of this stupid place as I am. Well, tough shit, if I'm paying him he had better stay put until I'm done.

_Excuse me, _Someone says, from behind me. _Did I hear you say you were looking for a platoon of soldiers?_

I spin around, slightly surprised to hear someone speaking such perfect English in this town. The speaker is a man, in his forties wearing shades and carrying a black briefcase. Unlike me, he seems to be at perfect odds with the heat. But, then again, I was always very pale and I tend to burn really easily. The man smiles, politely, as I speak.

_Yeah, _I say. _I am looking for a platoon. Its to do with my brother Lester. I'm looking for him and this was the last place he was seen in._

_What squadron? _The man asks.

I fish about in my pocket for the piece of paper as he checks his watch.

_195__th__ Squadron, _I read off the paper.

_What a coincidence, _The man says. _I'm heading for that squadron's base right this very moment. Would you like to join me in my jeep, Mr, um?_

_Oh, yes, my name is Larry Walker, _I say, hardly containing the relief in my voice. _I'm trying to find my brother Lester Walker, we're twins._

Five minutes later - having fired my guide as politely as I could and given him thirty dollars for his work today - I am in this man's jeep, driving through the outskirts of town and absolutely relishing the feel of real air conditioning. Of course, I didn't realise just how sweaty I was getting until I actually got into the car. My new companion doesn't seem to be sweating at all, or even noticing the change in temperature. I guess some people have all the luck. Slowly the scenery changes as we drive further and further from the town, less and less houses crop up until there is nothing but the road. I glance behind me to the back of the jeep; several sealed boxes are stacked neatly, by size and a canvas roof neatly covers it all. My companion clears his throat loudly, indicating that the boxes are none of my business and he speaks as he drives.

_No worries, _He says. _We'll be at the base in less than five minutes, Mr Walker._

_Ok, _I say, slightly embarrassed. _I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name…_

_No, _He says, almost immediately. _You didn't, and neither will you. With all due respect my name and my affairs are my own business…_

Oh, right. What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway? Either this guy is some kind of secret agent type - unlikely - or he is just another jerk. There are way too many of these guys in the world anyway.

Within ten minutes, my companion and I are out of the car and at the front entrance of a rather slapdash military base. There are a couple of bored-looking soldiers with sunburnt faces guarding the entrance. They raise their guns as we approach them.

_Excuse me, _I say, a little nervously. _My name is Larry Walker, you probably know my brother, Lester Walker. I'm here to see Lester, its really important that I speak with him._

The taller of the two guards - a big guy that must have been hitting his head on doorways since he was about ten - laughs and smiles triumphantly at his companion.

_Y'see Davies, _He says. _I __**told**__ ya he'd be here about Lez! I god-damn __**told**__ ya!_

The shorted soldier - who is still pretty tall but is completely dwarfed by his friend - chuckles dryly and looks at me, having seen my slightly bemused expression.

_No worries kid, _The shorter one says. _We was just watchin' you coming up the path and my pal Johnston, he leans over to me and he says "Hey, Davies. I bet you anything that the pale beanpole is gonna ask us about Lez Walker." Seems like he was right. You said you his brother?_

_Yeah, _I say. _We're twins._

_Not surprising, _The one called Johnston says. _You're the spitting image of Lez. It's scary man. I mean, I would've thought you __**were**__ him if you're hair were a little shorter. _

You'd be surprised at just how recent this thing is. Until eight months ago I was an absolute mess. I was stuck in a mental ward (self harm, not really as bad as they think) and I weighed just under 350 pounds; not pretty, if I say so myself. I got out, feeling like a piece of shit and got myself thin, the easy way. (By the "easy" way, I mean the cheapest way, which basically involves two fingers and good timing.) I actually wonder if Lester will recognise me at first, I look so completely different from when we last saw each other. But still, I smile as best as I can to the two soldiers as they open the gate and let me through. I get another chorus of _Oh my god you look jus like Lez _as I walk up through the camp. One of the soldiers is called up to accompany me through.

_I gotta admit, _This new soldier says. _It's just uncanny how alike the two of you are, man. But, I hope you ain't as crazy as Lez is. I mean, he points his gun at anything that doesn't recite our national anthem within ten seconds of seeing him, he's totally fuckin' mad._

Good to know he's still the same as ever. The soldier leads me to a small tent, opens it up and enters. Good god, this is going to be awkward.

_Hey, Lez, you in here? _The soldier calls. _You got a visitor!_

There is a pause of about twenty seconds.

_If its whatsherface from town tell her I've had to leave the base forever and I won't ever be back._ He says from inside the tent. _Same applies to that guy from the bar and the guy from the poker game…_

_S'none of them Lez, _The soldier says. _I said you got a visitor, not a local. Get your ass out here!_

My brother emerges, looking as if he has just awoken after a long night. Christ, I'd forgotten just how weird it feels when you see your own face staring back at you from someone else's body. It takes Lester about five seconds to register the situation, but, then, when it hits, he runs forward, punches me on the arm and hugs me. I am happy to see that now, I'm skinnier than him for the first time in ten years.

_Oh my god, Larry! _He says. _I don't believe it! You look so, different! I mean, Jesus, last time I saw you, you were a god-damn __**planet**__ and now look at you! Hey, Jefferson, this is my brother Larry, the one I was telling you about the other day!_

The soldier he addressed smiles and waves. I glance inquisitively at my brother as his friend Jefferson walks over and shakes my hand.

_Your brother was telling me about when you two were kids, _Jefferson says. _More specifically, that time when you were twelve and you drank a whole litre of vodka at once! He just wouldn't stop talking about it last week…_

Oh Christ, I'd nearly forgotten that one; Lester's pranks. Funnily enough, I can barely remember any of that particular time, probably something to do with the fact that I got very drunk very quickly, passed out and had to be taken to hospital to have my stomach pumped. All I can really recall is Lester, handing me a bottle and telling me it was water and then waking up a day and a half later to the sound of our mother, trying desperately to explain to a group of social workers and doctors how her two twelve-year-old sons had managed to get their hands on a two-litre bottle of vodka without her knowing. I shudder involuntarily at the memory and Lester laughs whole-heartedly.

_Anyway, _He says. _This calls for beers! Jefferson, can you go and get us a crate while I catch up with my brother? Thanks, man._

As soon as Jefferson is out of sight my brother grabs me roughly by the arm and pulls me into his tent. He sits down on his bed and nods to a seat on the other side. He starts talking before I've even made myself comfortable.

_Ok Larry, _He says, coldly. _I know for a fact that you're not here just for the sake of my company. Especially since our last little meeting ended in you smashing a glass bottle right into the side of my head…_

He pushes aside his hair to reveal two thin scars just above his left ear.

_Eight stitches, Larry. _He says. _Eight. And of course, while I was in hospital Mom had the nerve to come and ask me for money. I hate it when she does that, I really do._

_Sorry, _I say, unconvincingly. _Just part of my condition._

_"Sorry", my ass, _Lester says. _You couldn't be any less sorry if you tried. And don't think that just because you've got some sick-ass mental condition that you can do anything and get away with it! That shit doesn't hold here! So, why are you here?_

I sigh. I'm really not sure how he's going to take this. But still, this is the whole reason I've come out here and I'll be damned if all this has gone to waste.

_Lester, _I say, just as I went over in my head. _Mom's dead._

Silence falls. I watch a pattern of emotions play over his face as the news sinks in. I know he hated her just as much as I did, if not more, but still, he was Mom's favourite from day one.

_How did it happen? _He asks, after about a minute of silence.

_Cancer, _I say. _Lung cancer. That was about six months ago. _

_Six months?! _He yells. _And __**that's **__why came out here?_

I nod.

_You could've just written me a letter, y'know. _He says.

_I __**did**__, _I say. _I wrote, like, one letter a month since she was diagnosed two years ago and they were all sent back undelivered. No-one could reach you. So, I had no choice but to come and find you myself._

He gives me a look that a person would normally reserve for a petulant child and speaks again.

_Why the hell did you bother? _He asks. _That woman was the bitch to end all bitches. Why the fuck did you think I'd even care that she'd died?_

_It's not just about you y'know, _I say, now just as annoyed as I was earlier in the day. _Mom's lawyer, Mr Hunter, he said that it was written in the will that we can't collect our inheritance or even find out what is until the two of us are back home. If she's left me anything I'm gonna need it, so, I needed absolute proof of whether you were dead or not._

He makes a noise that could be of amusement or surprise. Then he stands and walks out of the tent. I follow, just in time to meet Jefferson, holding a crate of beers in his arms.

_Christ, Lez, _Jefferson says. _You look like you just been kicked in the balls, what's up?_

My brother smiles, broadly and grabs a beer from his friend.

_Well, Jefferson, I just got some rather interesting news from my brother, _He replies, calmly. _I just found out my mom just died of cancer. _

_Oh man, I'm so sorry, _Jefferson says, suddenly. _Was it bad, did she suffer?_

_Fuck knows, _Lester says. _And don't be sorry, the woman was a bitch and frankly, I seriously hope she suffered for it. Here, Larry, drink with me._

My brother takes another beer from his rather bemused-looking friend and forces it into my hands.

_This calls for a toast! _He proclaims. _To mom, the biggest bitch this side of the equator, and to the trip home I must now make to see what I've inherited!_

The three of us raise our bottles. I take my first drink of alcohol since I was twelve, simply because my mother forbade me from ever taking any ever again.

Suddenly, from the other side of the base a low rumbling noise sounds and the ground almost instantly begins to shake. Moments later a bright white light flashes about fifty feet above our heads, followed seconds later by a sound that until now I had only heard in films and on TV; the sound of a bomb exploding. Everything turns black.

I wake up minutes later, my ears ringing and my eyes are completely dazzled. I cannot even stand, I am so dizzy and every time I move any more than a single blink waves of agony shoot through me like fire. Slowly, as my vision returns things begin to make a little more sense. Where minutes before there were tents, jeeps and provisions there is nothing now but burning wreckage. I cannot hear anything from the ringing in my ears, but I can see my brother amongst a group of soldiers, wielding an automatic rifle and firing wildly into the smoke. The captain is yelling orders at the group but nothing seems to be working. They fire, but hit nothing. Their enemy, however, shots only one shot at a time and still manages to kill one of them each time. Slowly, as the pain of moving recedes I try to pick myself up, only to fall back to the ground. I glance to the ground to see a red puddle of blood underneath me. I begin to feel sick and the pain is starting to get worse with every moment. I cry out, not even hearing my own scream.

Moments later Lester is at my side, his own face red with blood. He swears and tries to help me get up, despite my protests and cries. Slowly, he makes his way back to the rest of the soldiers, with me on his soldiers. He is bleeding too, but from his shoulder and head. I slowly feel the heat receding and I begin to shiver as my vision begins to turn to black. All of a sudden Lester stops head, as a bullet from his enemy hits him right in the chest. He gasps, and is dead before he even hits the ground. I won't be far behind him at this rate anyway. As the world slowly fades a face appears in front of mine, a face that I know from half an hour ago. A man, wearing shades and carrying a briefcase, looks down at Lester and I with an amused expression on his face. He speaks, and I can just make out what he is saying by reading his lips.

_I think these two will be fine for what we need, _He says. _I'm sure Dr Hauser will get the joke of using twins for this particular experiment…_

He pulls a gun from his belt and, as calm as a cat, points it at me. Before the gun even makes a noise the bullet has hit and everything fades to nothingness…


End file.
